


with the stars

by cosmicpoet



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, post chapter 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: After Kaito's death, Shuichi doesn't know how he's supposed to carry on. But if Maki feels the same, then surely they can use the wonderful lessons that Kaito taught them about how to love themselves, and live on in his memory?





	with the stars

Saihara sits in the milk-light of the stars and prays that he’s smart enough to deceive himself. All his life, he’s been praised for his intuitive nature, and at each turn, he’s hated who it made him - who it still makes him. But he gets it. It’s hard for people to trust him when they know he’ll see through any lies, and it’s hard for him to make friends when he’s always been the outcast, forever searching for the truth of it all; and the truth of it all is just a knife that’ll drip his own blood right back into him.

And then, there was Momota. Oh god, and then there was Momota. It’s such a strange feeling - or, rather, _was_ such a strange feeling - to have someone like him, not despite his talent, but _because_ of it. Someone who saw him as reliant rather than coldly impartial, and in that moment, the moment he met Momota, being a detective wasn’t so bad. But that moment has far more significance, even now, than he ever realised. In the terrible nostalgia of hindsight, Saihara thinks back on his first meeting with Momota as though being a biased narrator will ever get him anywhere. It was like the entire sky had erupted, every supernova bursting at once, shattering the shards of midnight and sprinkling stars down across his body like glass, but nothing here could ever hurt him. And in Momota’s smile, there was so much more than just a smile, there was belief.

Belief. Yeah, that’s the thing that hurts him right now. He’s still looking up at the sky, begging it to shatter once more; all the stars are stuck steadfast in their places, and things will forever be this way. There’s nothing in the sky that would beg to tell him of a different reality.

And Momota is still gone. Which is what brings Saihara here, digging his heels into the wet grass near where they used to train; he can’t bring himself to even sit underneath that canopy any more, not for the memories of Momota that will flood his mind and break him even further beyond the path he has already taken. He begs his mind to tell him something, screaming questions at himself, but there is only silence. Silence, and mourning.

Still, his eyes grace the sky, scanning for any movement. Begging the rocket that took Momota upwards, not quite to his death, to push past the boundaries of the atmosphere once more; just _please,_ show Saihara that his best friend is still out there somewhere. And if there comes a day where the universe decides to be kind, Saihara will forever leave his door unlocked in the vague hope that Momota will come back home. Home, to his hands and his heart, and he promises that they’ll never let each other go again.

It’s a pipe dream, and he knows it. Christ, he _fucking knows it._ He saw Momota’s dead body fall out of that rocket, and his promises not to cry felt back then like empty words, because god, all he could do was sob. He had to regain composure. He _had_ to restrain himself from running towards Momota’s body, cradling it in his arms, shouting at him and telling him that he’s such an _idiot,_ what right did he have to kill someone and still make Saihara fall in love with him? What right did he have to believe in Saihara, the only person who ever did, and then _die_ like he wasn’t leaving his best friend alone in a world that’ll never love him like this again?

Slowly, tentatively, he stands up, wondering if he’ll be able to bear the weight of his guilt, or if he’ll collapse back onto the ground. Strangely enough, he has some sort of misplaced confidence in his ability to walk - something that must be left over from Momota’s impact - and then it’s all a matter of putting one foot in front of the other until he reaches the canopy, the place he told himself he was not strong enough to go.

The leaves hang down from the ceiling and shelter his view of the stars; but no matter. They may as well put themselves out, because there exists no longer a person beautiful and bright enough to be worthy of viewing them. He wonders if he’ll ever tire of this, of thinking of his loss. 

But then, there’s someone else. He doesn’t see her approaching, but soon enough, Harukawa is holding his hand. Silently. She says nothing, but he knows. He’s much the same. There’s nothing that they can say that won’t sound hollow, because neither of them have ever relied on words as much as they believed in Kaito’s, and it’s all over now. But he doesn’t let go of her hand, and he’s thankful of her presence.

Sometimes, however, talking is necessary, no matter how painful.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Saihara asks, still not turning to look at her.

“Don’t be an idiot. Of course it is. That’s not even a question.”

“I-I know.”

“Sorry. That was too harsh,” she leans on his shoulder, and he feels for the first time tonight the comfort of someone else, “and I don’t really know how to deal with these things.”

“These things?”

“Y’know, other people dying. I thought I was over caring about that.”

“I think, deep down, you knew you weren’t. Otherwise, why would you have fought so hard to keep him alive?”

“C’mon, Saihara, please don’t make me feel any worse. That’s just a reminder that I _couldn’t_ save him. I was too weak.”

“No. Or, at least, if that makes you weak, then we’re all weak. You’re better than the lot of us for even trying.”

“It’s not enough, though, is it? He still died. So it means nothing whether I tried or didn’t - the outcome is still the same.”

“And you couldn’t have changed it. Even if you’d got yourself killed fighting Monokuma, Momota still would have died from his illness anyway.”

“So why are _you_ still beating yourself up?”

“Oh. Good question.”

“I don’t think there’s an answer, you know. I guess it’s survivor’s guilt, but we’re not going to bring him back by questioning whether we could have stopped it. You can fight the whole damn world, Saihara, and so can I, but Momota won’t be alive at the end of it.”

“Y-You’re right. I suppose. It’s just…well, I mean…I don’t care anymore. Not about him dying, but about…everything else. He’s gone, so what’s left to live for?”

“Yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Saihara says, the ache of strangled sobs in his throat making his voice break.

“I mean…for both of us, I guess. Momota made us better. He helped us become the people we are…people that we hate a little less than we did before. That has to count for something. Sure, he’s gone, but…we’re still here. And we’re better than we were before we met him.”

“So what? So we have to live on because he can’t?”

“Exactly.”

“Well that’s bullshit, Harukawa.”

“Harumaki,” she says.

“What?”

“That’s what he called me. I like that name. I don’t want to never hear it again.”

“Alright…Harumaki.”

“Yeah,” she turns his face towards hers, “that’s it. That’s what we have to keep going for.”

“For his memory? He’s _gone._ Dead. His memory doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

“Are you sure about that?” Harukawa says, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the canopy so that they can see the sky again.

“What are you doing?”

“Look up. See those three stars, right there?”

“So what?”

“Momota told me about them. They’re Orion’s Belt. He said that they looked…wrong, like they were in the wrong position, but he was glad they were still there.”

“And?”

“And there’s three of them. Like him, you, and me. So when you’re…when _we’re_ feeling hopeless, I think we should look towards those. Y’know, like a reminder that what he taught us still lives on in our hearts.”

“I loved him, Harumaki.”

“Yeah,” she says, tears in her eyes, “me too, Saihara. I think we all did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Clear!! I love you so much, I hope you liked this fic!!


End file.
